He eyes his food with caution. Maybe the memory I saw that looked harmless to me has reminded him of something painful.
Clamoring for an explanation that might save me, I add, “Also, the old ladies in the Friday cards group claim your family used to hold parties here. A favorite menu item was supposedly the fried green tomato hors d’oeuvres, so I figured you must have eaten them ages ago, back in… well,back.”
His gaze narrows further. Crap. Is he… mad? Upset that I justcalled him old, or that I clearly uncovered a very invasive weed he’s spent decades trying to smother? I was elbow-deep in powdered sugar yesterday and now I’m tiptoeing around a Warlock in an isolated house with no one around to hear my screams.How in the hell did I get here?
His stool screeches across the tile as he stands. “My memories are private. This entire endeavor is a mistake.”
What. I cross my arms. “You’re ill. I don’t think you have a choice.”
The intimidating facade on his face slips like an egg on nonstick, but only for a second. “I’ll find another Farewitch.”
“Be my guest. Foxe Holler’s only got me, and another Farewitch would never leave her own community. You and I both know local magic is the strongest.”
“Leave. Now.”
“Hell no.” I didn’t close the shop, lie to my mother, and drag my ass all the way into the boonies of the boonies for aNo thanks. “That meal was perfect and you know it.”
Just then, the lights in the kitchen flicker off. The air stills, dead. Out of the corner of my eye, I see plants begin to grow exponentially fast from their pots, vines racing across the tile for my feet.
The Warlock is in front of me before I can blink, his shadow looming over me. “I don’t need a child Farewitch lecturing me about my own magic. I’m more than familiar with the consequences of its shortcomings. Get.Out.”
My cheeks burn. More than the thought of the Warlock’s plant monstrosities dragging me to the depths of his garden to suffocate me, thatembarrassmentat being called out for my inexperience does it.
Fine. Maybe I am a crappy Farewitch. But at least I was willing to listen.
As I stomp back through the maze of a farmhouse, my thoughts reel. I didn’t ask for this. Any of it. The job, the town, the shop, thelegacy. I’m not even sure I want it. All I want is for my mom to celebrate her next birthday. If I can’t tunnel my way into this Warlock’s life long enough for his magic and knowledge to point me to an answer, then forget this mess.
I’m yanking open my truck’s driver door when I hear the porch creak.
“Wait.”
I don’t know what it is, but something in the Warlock’s voice makes me turn back around. Unbelievable. Farewitches are just people pleasers with aprons, it’s true. But it’s more than that. I can’t abandon what might be my last chance at finding the cure for my mom. A Farewitch doesn’t give up so easily.
On the front porch, his arms are crossed. “Unfortunately for the both of us, you are the last option I have. You’re also the only person not afraid to come here.”
“I’m not surprised,” I reply, keeping a healthy distance. “Your house needs to learn to trust new people. Or at least not pelt them with pots.”
“I’ve lived here for years and I don’t trust anyone. Why should it?” His expression remains completely unreadable. Never have I heard such a cranky non-apology. “You have the job if you want it.”
My heartbeat jumps like a mixer on high speed.No freaking way.
“You’ll have to live here, of course. I presume that won’t be a problem.”
My mixer heart zooms faster and starts sparking. Wait, what—
He pulls out a folded square of paper as he stalks down the porch steps. “This is the fee I can offer you. Half now, half at the… end.”
Numb, I meet him at the bottom step and take the paper. Fingerprints of soil cover the pages. Like he’s been holding on to it for a while, waiting. I look at the amount.
My cinnamon toast does a choreographed dive routine in my gut. With this kind of money, I can do somethingrealfor my mom.Or doctors can, with bills paid in full. I could send her to a big city with better healthcare and even rent an apartment to be close to her,all at once.
But I wouldn’t be able to do that part. Because I’d need to be here. With the Warlock.
My mouth is open, but I don’t care. He’s still scowling when I look up at him. His face must freeze like that. “This is beyond…” I don’t know how to finish. I got the job.
What if I can’t cure him? And I can’t abandon the Apothakery to work for one person, for who knows how long.
It’s not a regular illness. It’s magic in origin.
